


nothing can console me

by stuffthatbard



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Consensual Mind Control, Consensual Sex, Creature Jaskier | Dandelion, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Explicit Consent, F/F, Female Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Female Jaskier | Dandelion, Genderbending, Intersex Jaskier | Dandelion, Mild Praise Kink, Mind Control, Monsterfucker Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Human Jaskier | Dandelion, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Restraints, Top Jaskier | Dandelion, Xenobiology, basically jaskier has a vulva in human form and penis inside a vulva in siren form, geralt has a vulva
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:34:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28259289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuffthatbard/pseuds/stuffthatbard
Summary: Geralt takes a contract on a siren, expecting a fight, but receives something far different. (And enjoys it quite a bit.)
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 14
Kudos: 178





	nothing can console me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PatternsInThread](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatternsInThread/gifts).



> Written as a gift fic for PatternsInThread. There's not as much mind control as I would have hoped, but oh well. 
> 
> The song Jaskier sings is Jolly Sailor Bold, and I had the version from Pirates of the Caribbean in mind when writing this.

Geralt led Roach along the beach, not wanting to overburden her with her weight in the wet sand. The moon was high, a clear night, but even without the moonlight she would have been able to see everything in perfect detail. Cat raced through her veins, supplemented by Tawny Owl and Thunderbolt—a cocktail that had her blood pumping hot, ready for a fight.

She was in search of a siren, having taken a contract in the coastal town of Lettenhove. Apparently, the siren had drowned three young men already—and when Geralt reached the spot where they’d been taken from, she caught the traces they’d left—a drop of blood spilled here, the whiff of human fear still faint in the air.

She hummed and drew her silver sword in preparation. She must be close to the siren’s nest—she left Roach a good distance away and tracked the blood trail all the way to a small cove, where the entrance to a cave stood at the end.

She took a moment to down another dose of Cat before heading into the cave. It was really quite beautiful, all things considered—a pool of tranquil water stood in the middle, reflecting like glass, and the walls were spotted with crystals growing out of the rock.

But she wasn’t here to admire the scenery—she had a monster to fight. And ahead, very faintly, she heard singing—feminine, melodious, _enchanting._ She shook her head to dispel the fog that began to descend upon her brain, adjusting her grip on her sword and forging forwards.

The singing grew louder as she approached, until she could make out words: “ _My heart is pierced by longing, I disdain all glittering gold, there’s nothing can console me…”_

At that moment, Geralt misstepped, sending a rock skittering across the cavern floor. The siren, perched at the edge of the cavern in her nest atop a rock formation, hissed and turned around, fins flaring, sharp teeth bared. _Fuck._ There went the element of surprise.

Geralt rushed forward, sword aimed high, but found herself stopped in her tracks before she got even halfway there. It was as if her body didn’t want to obey her, muscles unresponsive. Her arm lowered her sword, dropping it on the cavern floor with a _clang,_ despite all her instincts screaming at her.

Fuck. She was done for. Any second now, the siren would come for her, claws outstretched, ready to tear her to ribbons. She braced herself for the worst.

But the worst never came. Instead, the siren came swooping down off her perch to land right in front of her, silvery-blue scales melting away into legs before her very eyes.

“Well, hello, gorgeous,” purred the siren. Geralt chanced a look upwards into her eyes—blue as the stormy sea, and positively captivating. The longer she stared into them, the more she felt herself growing hazy, swayed by her magic. “You were trying to kill me, weren’t you?”

Geralt found that, when she tried, she was still able to control her mouth. “Yes,” she growled. “Are we going to fight or not?”

The siren laughed. “Would you _like_ to fight? I hardly think you’d stand a chance.” She waved a hand, and Geralt found herself forced to her knees. The siren leaned down, capturing her face in her hands, and Geralt was powerless to do anything about it. “I could make you do anything I want,” she whispered, their faces inches from each other, and to her horror, Geralt felt herself growing damp in her trousers at the words.

She prayed more than anything that the siren wouldn’t notice—but no, her nostrils flared, and she smiled, a wicked thing full of too many teeth. “Oh, you like that, do you?”

“Let me go,” Geralt growled. “Either kill me or don’t, but stop this charade.”

“Darling, what makes you think I’m not serious?” the siren purred, but drew back so Geralt could breathe. “Luckily for you, I’m in a charitable mood today. I’ll let you leave here unharmed, if you swear never to come to Lettenhove again.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Then I suppose I’ll have to keep you here, then, won’t I?” the siren mused. “A witcher would make a lovely pet.”

“I’d sooner die.”

The siren _pouted,_ which struck Geralt as odd, considering the circumstances. Why was she acting so nonchalant? “Oh, darling, you’re no fun,” she sighed.

“Nothing about this is fun. Kill me now, because I’m not stopping until I kill the creature that drowned those men.”

The siren frowned, then. “I haven’t killed anyone! Well, I killed a harpy that was encroaching on my territory, but I assume that’s not what you mean, yes?”

“A harpy?” Territorial disputes between species weren’t uncommon—although it was odd for a harpy to have ventured this far north. Normally they stuck to warmer waters. Was it possible that the siren was telling the truth, and the harpy had been responsible for the murders?

“Yes. Dreadful thing, positively stank of death. It had to be done,” the siren sniffed.

“Let’s say I believe you. How do I know you won’t kill in the future?”

“Well that would be just terrible for my reputation, now, wouldn’t it?” At Geralt’s blank look, she sighed. “I’m not exactly… _well-liked_ by my own kind. The only company I have is the occasional human that comes wandering down here.”

“Hmm.”

“Not very talkative, are you?” Geralt, characteristically, said nothing. “My offer still stands, you know. I’ll let you go unharmed. Or…” she said, drawing closer and tilting her face up with a clawed finger, “…we can take care of that situation of yours together,” she finished, biting her lip and glancing down at Geralt’s trousers.

…Damn her, she was actually considering taking the siren up on her offer. But could she really afford to lose control like that?

The siren seemed to notice her hesitation, and stepped out of reach. Geralt felt the control over her body vanish, swaying in place as she regained her balance.

“I meant what I said. And I want you to make this decision fully consensual. I’m not a monster,” the siren said seriously.

Geralt got slowly to her feet, her legs tingling from perhaps more than just the position she’d been in. “And if I agree, what then?”

“Well, we’d have sex,” the siren said frankly. “You do know what that is, right?”

“Don’t insult me.”

“Just checking,” the siren said, holding up her hands. “And, if you’d be so inclined, I could… help you to relax. Let me take care of everything, let yourself give up control.”

And it sounded so, so tempting. The siren really was beautiful, when she looked, even with the too-sharp teeth and the scales and the eyes that almost glowed in the dark.

And fuck, it wasn’t like Eskel hadn’t done the same thing before. Fuck it. “Alright,” she agreed, and the siren smiled.

“Excellent,” she purred. “Darling—what’s your name, if we’re to be together? Not very romantic to fuck a stranger.”

“Not very romantic anyways,” Geralt snorted, thinking of the cave. “But it’s Geralt.”

“Geralt,” the siren repeated. “Call me Jaskier.” Then she was stepping closer, pulling Geralt into a kiss, mindful of her sharp teeth.

They didn’t bother to keep it chaste—or rather, Jaskier didn’t bother to. Geralt tried to keep it slow, but within seconds Jaskier was deepening the kiss, tongue delving into her mouth. She bit back a whimper.

Geralt didn’t know how long the kiss lasted before she had to surface for air. She closed her eyes, resting her forehead against Jaskier’s collarbone, panting. Jaskier held her close, idly trailing a hand along her back. “Let’s get this off you,” she said, plucking at the armor, and Geralt hastily complied, undressing in record time.

Jaskier licked her lips seductively, leering at the way Geralt stood in front of her, naked and unashamed. “Like what you see?” Geralt quipped, lifting an eyebrow while keeping her tone completely neutral.

“ _Yes,”_ Jaskier hissed, and Geralt felt her assume control over Geralt’s body again. She was forced to her knees again—but gently, so gently. Jaskier walked forward, taking Geralt’s face in her hands once more, but this time, she nudged her head forwards until it was buried in the curls at the vee of her hips.

Geralt’s hands came up of their own accord to grip Jaskier’s thighs, muscular yet soft. She inhaled, smelling salt and musk, something that made her mouth water. “Go ahead, darling,” Jaskier urged, “or shall I make you?”

Geralt couldn’t hide how hot that made her, the idea of Jaskier forcing her into it. She groaned, cunt growing damp again, and Jaskier chuckled.

“Alright, then,” she breathed, and then lifted a leg over Geralt’s shoulder, forcing her to bury her face in Jaskier’s cunt.

Geralt’s tongue flicked out, tasting the wetness in between her legs. Jaskier sighed, a little, pleased thing above her. Geralt did it again, and again, long, slow, licks that flicked against her clit at the end. Jaskier grew wetter, coating Geralt’s chin, making an absolute mess.

Geralt hummed, and was rewarded with a fresh gush of slick against her tongue. Jaskier rocked her hips forward into the sensation, hands coming around to hold Geralt’s head there.

“More,” Jaskier moaned, and Geralt found herself redoubling her efforts—Jaskier in control, now. She thrust faster, and it was mere moments before Jaskier was shuddering through her release, strong leg locked around Geralt’s back, heel nudging her spine almost painfully—but Geralt couldn’t care less, as caught up as she was in Jaskier’s orgasm.

Eventually she released Geralt, physically and mentally, petting at the hair she’d mussed in her grip. “Wonderful,” she praised, pupils blown out. Geralt didn’t know how she herself looked, but she would bet that she looked similarly undone, hair a mess, chin coated in slick, trousers equally wet.

“Someone’s worked up,” Jaskier laughed, brushing a thumb against Geralt’s bottom lip, and then dipping inside. Geralt’s lips closed around it, sucking eagerly. “So good for me, Geralt. So obedient,” she breathed, then pulled back. Geralt fought back a whine at the loss.

Jaskier gave her an appraising look, and then turned her back to Geralt, walking towards the pool in the middle. What, was that it? She was just going to leave her here?

Jaskier paused at the edge of the pool, and Geralt watched as her blue scales shimmered back into existence, legs fusing together, but before she could lose her balance, she dove into the water, disappearing beneath its surface.

Only to surface a moment later, propped up on a ledge in the water, crooking a finger at Geralt. She stumbled to her feet and over to the pool, and stepped in to find that it was pleasantly warm, not cold like she’d expected it to be.

“Nice, isn’t it?” Jaskier asked, pulling Geralt down to sit on the ledge and then pulling herself onto Geralt’s lap. Geralt’s hands came up automatically to cup her waist, and Jaskier shivered at the brush of her hands, tipping their foreheads together so that their breath mingled.

“Very nice,” Geralt rumbled appreciatively, and captured Jaskier’s lips in another kiss. They were right there, so why not?

They kissed for a while more, until Geralt started to shift in her seat, arousal rising again. Jaskier pulled back with a wicked grin, winding the end and fins of her tail around Geralt’s ankles. Her tail was _strong,_ effectively pinning her legs together, and Geralt moaned at the thought of Jaskier restraining her so effortlessly.

“Oh, _darling,”_ Jaskier purred, pupils blowing out again. “You really are enjoying this.”

“Of course I am,” Geralt meant to snap, but it came out much breathier than she’d intended.

Jaskier grinned. “Just wait until I do _this,”_ she said, and then ducked underwater, unwrapping her tail as she did, only to force Geralt’s thighs apart with her hands, pinning them spread out instead. And then she was licking, sucking, fucking her tongue into Geralt’s cunt, and Geralt sobbed at the stimulation after so long unattended.

She peaked quickly, but Jaskier didn’t stop, only shifted her grip so that she was pinning Geralt’s waist in place with one hand, bringing the other hand up to dip two fingers into Geralt’s clenching cunt, all the while eating her out.

It was _heaven._ She orgasmed two more times, at least, each time trying to writhe against Jaskier’s unbreakable hold, coming harder when Jaskier gave her no relief.

It was only when she felt tears of overstimulation running down her face that Jaskier finally let up. She breached the surface and immediately pulled Geralt into a wet kiss, and Geralt shuddered when she realized that she could taste herself in Jaskier’s mouth.

Jaskier broke the kiss, panting. “Can I fuck you?” she asked, voice rough with lust.

“Yes,” Geralt moaned, unsure how it would even work, but unquestionably wanting it. “Fuck.”

Jaskier pulled herself back into Geralt’s lap, one hand bracing herself on Geralt’s shoulder, the other grabbing Geralt’s and bringing to the top of her tail, right below her waist. She dragged Geralt’s fingers along her scales, until Geralt felt something, a slight bump, that, when she explored it, revealed itself to be the opening for a slit, steadily growing hotter and slipperier beneath her touch.

“Inside, please,” Jaskier gasped, throwing her head back and relinquishing control to Geralt. Geralt slowly, hesitantly pushed a finger inside, met with a warm slickness, just like a cunt. It even moved like one, too, clenching down around her finger.

Geralt played with her slit, exploring the strange newness of it, stroking around the edges and dipping a finger inside in turn. Jaskier moaned again, hands clenching into fists, tail thrashing in the water.

Geralt continued her efforts until Jaskier was shaking, small whimpers coming out of her with every exhale.

And then she felt it—nudging against her fingers, inside of Jaskier’s slit, there was something hard and throbbing, fighting to emerge. Geralt stroked a hesitant fingertip against it, and felt it jump at the touch. “Ohhhh, do that again,” Jaskier moaned, thrusting her hips. Geralt complied, stroking again and again, until Jaskier was gasping, eyes clenched shut. “ _Fuck—_ out, get out, now—” she demanded, and Geralt thought for a horrible moment that she’d done something wrong.

But she needn’t have worried—one look at Jaskier’s face revealed her to be very much enjoying herself. Geralt looked down at her tail, and watched in fascination as something that looked like a cock emerged from the slit.

“Geralt, Geralt, please, I’m ready, are you—” Jaskier grunted, bringing a hand to her cock and gripping around the base.

“Fuck, yes, Jaskier, in me, _now,”_ Geralt hissed back, spreading her legs and grabbing Jaskier’s hips to urge her forward.

And then Jaskier was sliding in, sinking deep within her, and Geralt let out a long, low moan, throwing her head back against the edge of the pool. She felt _so damn good,_ her wondrous cock filling Geralt up in just the right way.

“Move, please move—” Geralt begged, always needing more, and whined when Jaskier complied, pulling back only to thrust deep once again, and again, and again.

It didn’t take long at all for Geralt to orgasm, Jaskier rubbing at her clit in tandem with her thrusts, sending her over the edge embarrassingly quickly.

“’M close, Geralt, so close, _fuck—”_ Jaskier bit out, trying to keep her thrusts even, shaking with every move.

“Come on then, come, Jaskier, come for me, fill me up—” Geralt urged, and Jaskier did.

Her hips thrust once, twice, and then she was spilling inside of Geralt, warm wetness coating her walls.

She sighed in contentment, thrusting lazily up once more, and then pulled out. Geralt clenched to try and keep her inside, whining, but Jaskier wouldn’t let her. “Sorry, darling, you’ve worn me out,” she chuckled. “But give me one moment to catch my breath, and I’ll clean you up,” she promised, licking her lips, and Geralt shivered at the implication.

They lay there for a minute as their hearts calmed, and then Jaskier was rolling over and ducking beneath the water again, tongue easily finding Geralt’s cunt. Geralt thrust into it eagerly—and then Jaskier was pulling away, coming back up to the surface, fixing Geralt with a stern yet lustful look.

“Can you be a good girl for me and hold still? Or do you need help?” Jaskier asked, and Geralt blushed, nodding furiously.

“Help. I—I need help, please,” she said, fast.

“Good girl, asking for help,” Jaskier purred, and then Geralt felt her body relinquished into Jaskier’s control once again. All of her muscles locked up; she couldn’t move an inch.

Jaskier smiled and then went at it again, sucking every bit of cum out of her, and her soul, too, it felt like. Geralt was helpless against the onslaught, unable to thrust forwards or away, or do anything other than lie there trying to catch her breath, entire body shuddering.

And then Jaskier flicked her tongue just right, finger brushing against her oversensitive clit, and she was coming, coming, coming, until she was sure she would pass out.

She came back to herself gasping for breath, cradled in Jaskier’s hold, body still jolting in the aftershocks occasionally.

Once she’d managed to calm down a bit, with Jaskier’s hands stroking through her hair, she looked up at the siren. “Back with me, love?” Jaskier asked softly.

Geralt nodded, smiling tiredly, and somewhat at a loss for words. Luckily, it seemed Jaskier didn’t need any from her. She just held Geralt, surprisingly intimate, but Geralt wasn’t complaining.

Eventually, though, she did need to get out of the pool. Her fingers were hopelessly pruned, and she was beginning to shiver, despite the warmth of the water.

She dried off and dressed almost reluctantly—although she knew she had to leave. She couldn’t very well stay in this cave forever, could she?

Jaskier watched her, elbows propped on the side of the pool, tail swishing idly through the water. “Such a shame, covering up all that beauty with armor,” she lamented.

“Better ugly than dead,” Geralt returned.

“Oh, I suppose,” Jaskier sighed. “Speaking of, I do hope the villagers don’t give you too much grief about the contract.”

Geralt grimaced; she had almost forgotten. “I’ll deal with it. Suppose you don’t have any spare heads lying around, do you?”

Jaskier, rather than expressing disgust like Geralt expected, lit up. “Oh! What if I give you the harpy’s head? Will that work?”

Geralt shrugged. “Villagers won’t know the difference.”

“One moment.” Jaskier hoisted herself out of the pool, tail transforming into legs, and then disappeared up into her nest, returning bearing a rather disgusting trophy. “Here. Glad to get that out of here,” Jaskier said easily.

“Thanks.” Geralt shouldered the trophy, but hesitated. It didn’t feel right to just leave. “And…thank you. For helping me relax.”

Jaskier winked. “Of course, darling. And you’re welcome anytime—something tells me we’ll be seeing each other again soon.”

_I’d like that,_ Geralt didn’t say, as much as she wanted to. She did allow herself a small smile, and a parting nod to the siren. “See you around.”

She walked out of the cave, back to Roach, the siren’s melody hanging in the air the whole while.


End file.
